Major Jones's sketches of travel comprising the scenes, incidents, and adventures in his tour from Georgia to Canada |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. | LETTER VI. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
| 19. |
| 20. |
| 21. |
| 22. |
 | Major Jones's sketches of travel |  |
LETTER VI.
To Mr. Thompson:—Dear Sir—It was pretty late
before I got up this mornin, and then it was 'bout a
ower before I found my way down stairs after I did git
up. You hain't no idee what a everlastin heap of rooms
and passages and stair-ways ther is to these big hotels,
and to a person what aint use to 'em it's 'bout as difficult
to navigate through 'em as it is to find one's way
out of a Florida hammock.
As soon as I got my breckfast I sot out for the Capitol,
what stands on the hill, at the upper eend of the Avenue,
as they call it, which is a grate wide street runnin rite
through the middle of the city. When I looked up to
it—from the street—it seemed like it wasn't more'n
twenty yards off, but before I got to it I was pretty tired
walkin. The gates was open, and I walked into the
yard, and follered round the butiful paved walks til I
cum to the steps. The yard, round the bildin, is all
laid off in squares and dimonds, jest like Mary's flower-garden,
and is all sot out with trees. Rite in frunt of
the bildin, on the side towards the city, is a curious kind
of a monument, standin in a basin of water, with little
babys and angels, all cut out of solid marble, standin all
round on the corners of it, pintin up to a old eagle what
looks like he'd gone to roost on the top of it. It's a
very pretty thing, and the water what it stands in is full
of little red fishes, playing all about as lively as tadpoles
in a mill pond. I looked at the monument sum time,
and red sum of the names on it, but sum I couldn't make
out and the rest I've forgot.
After gwine up two or three more pair of stone stairs,
I cum to the door of the Capitol. I couldn't see nobody
answer. I waited awhile and then nocked agin with my
stick, but nobody never sed a word. Thinks I, they
can't be home. But the door was open—so thinks I, I'll
go in and see the bildin any how. Well, in I went, and
the fust thing I met was two pair of stairs agin, both
gwine the same way. I tuck one of 'em, and after gwine
a little ways I cum to another green door. Thinks I, it
wont do to be too bold, or I mought git into a fuss with-the
kitchen cabinet, and I knowd a whig wouldn't find
no frends thar. So I nocked agin, louder and louder,
but nobody answered. Well, thinks I, the government
can't be to home sure enuff, and I was jest thinkin what
a bominable shame it was for them to neglect their bisness
so, when here cum a feller, what had whiskers all
over his face, with three or four galls, laughin and
gigglin at a terrible rate, and in they went, without ever
nockin a lick. Well, thinks I, I've got as good a right
here as any body else what dont belong to the administration,
so in I follered into the rotunda.
I tell you what, Mr. Thompson, this rotunda is a
monstrous tall bildin jest of itself. Why you could put
the Pineville court-house inside of it, and it wouldn't
be in the way a bit. A full grown man dont look no
bigger in it than a five year old boy, and I cum very
near nockin a pinter dog in the hed for a rat, he looked
so little. The sides is all hung round with picters, and
over the doors ther is some sculptures representin William
Penn swindlin the Ingins out of ther land, and Columbus
cumin ashore in his boat, and old Danel Boon killin off
the aborignees with a butcher knife, and other subjects
more or less flatterin to the national character. The
figers is all cramped up like they'd been whittled down
to fit ther places, and don't look well to my likin at all.
The places would be a great deal better filled with single
figers representin our grate generals and statesmen. The
picters is very good, and it's worth a trip from Georgia
to Washington to see them great national paintins, the
of Cornwallis, Washington givin up his Commission,
the Baptism of Pochontas, and the Pilgrim
Fathers on board ther ship. I could looked at 'em a
whole day, but I had so much to see and so little time
to spare, that I only gin 'em a passin examination.
Bimeby I went up to a chap what was sitin by the
door with a book in his hand, and ax'd him whar the
government was.
“Who?” ses he.
“The government,” ses I,—“Polk and Dallas.”
“Oh, ses he, the President is at home at his house,
I believe, but I don't know whar Mr. Dallas is.”
“Don't the President live here?” ses I.
“No sir,” ses he. “He lives in the White House
at the other eend of the Avenue. This is the Capitol
whar Congress sets, but it aint in session now.”
“Beg your pardon sir,” ses I, “I thought the government
all lived at the Capitol.”
“Your a stranger here then, it seems,” ses he. “My
business is to show strangers over the Capitol. Do you
wish to see it?”
“That's jest what I cum here for,” ses I, “and I'd
like very much to see whar Congress makes the laws.”
“Very well,” ses he, “jest foller me.”
Well, he led the way and I follered up stairs and
down, through passages and round pillars and corners,
under arches and over roofs, through the Senate Chamber,
the Hall of the Representatives, and ever so many offices
and committee rooms, til he brung me out on the top of
the dome. I never was so high up in the world before.
Thar was the “city of magnificent distances,” litteraly
stretched out at my feet, and I looked down upon the dignitaries
of the land. I was indeed elevated above Presidents
and Cabinets, and Ministers of State. Houses looked
like martin boxes, men looked no bigger than seed-ticks,
and carriages and horses went crawlin along over the
ground like a couple of ants draggin a dead blue bottle.
Maryland comes into the ten miles square, and the Potomac
looks like a little branch runnin through a meadow
of trees; while the Tiber don't look no more like “the
angry Tiber chafing with its shores” in which Julias
Cæsar and Mr. Cassius went a swimmin with ther clothes
on, than our duck pond does like the Atlantic Ocean.
Well, after takin a good look from the dome, I follered
the man what keeps the Capitol, down agin into the Rotunda,
and ax'd him what was to pay for his trouble.
“Nothing at all,” ses he, and then he told me whar
the statues was on the eastern Portico, and pinted out
the place whar they kept Mr. Greenough's Washington.
I went out on the portico, and what do you think,
Mr. Thompson! the very first thing I seed was a woman
without so much as a pettycoat on! Not a real live
woman, but one cut out of marble, jest as nateral as life
itself. Thar she was, sort of half standin and half
squattin by the side of a man dressed off in armour and
holdin a round ball in his hand. At first I never was
so tuck aback in my life, and I looked all round to see
if anybody was lookin at me. I couldn't help but look
at it, though it did make me feel sort o' shamed all alone
by myself. Every now and then somebody would cum
by, and then I would walk off and look tother way.
But sumhow I couldn't go away. The more I looked
at it the handsumer it got, til bimeby I seemed to forgit
every other thought in the contemplation of its beauty.
Ther was sumthing so chaste, and cold, and pure about
that beautiful figure, that I begun to be in love with it,
and I couldn't help but think if I was Columbus and
wasn't marble myself, I'd be tempted to give her a hug
now and then, if she was a squaw. I went down off
the portico and took a front view of it—and then I
looked at it sideways—and then I went up the steps and
looked at it thar agin, and every way it presented a image
of beauty to dream of years to come. Bimeby the galls
that chap with the whiskers and I backed out.
Ther is two other statues standin on the east frunt of
the Capitol, one representin the godess of Peace, and
the other General Mars, the god of War. They are
both very handsome. Mars carrys his hed like a genewine
South Carolina militia captain, and Peace looks
like she wouldn't hurt anybody for the world; but ther
is something tame about 'em—they look somehow like
they was cast in a mould.
After lookin at them a while, I went out to the bildin
what stands in the yard, and tuck a look at Mr. Greenough's
Washington, and to tell you the truth, I never
was so disappinted in my life. This statue has some
terrible bad faults, and on first view, before one has time
to study and understand the design of the artist, creates
any thing but a favorable impression. In the fust place
the position is out of keepin with the character of Washington;
in the second place, the costume is worse than
the position, and in the next place, the mouth is not good,
and destroys the character and expression of the face.
Ther ain't nothing Washington about it, to my notion.
The idea of puttin a Roman togy on Gen. Washington, is
ridiculous; as if he wasn't jest as much entitled to be a
type of his age and generation, as Julius Cæsar or any
other Roman hero is of the age when ther was no tailors
to make coats. It made me feel bad when I looked
up and saw Washington's bare busum. The veneration
which Americans feel for the character of Washington
is shocked at the exposure of that noble breast, whose
every throb was for his country. It seems like a desecration
to represent him in any other way than as he
was, when he was alive; and though ther is something
imposin and grand in the artist's design, the effect is
destroyed by the want of fidelity to the character of the
man. I tried my best to overcum my prejudices agin
the Washington, because it was a American work, but
it was no go, and I went back and tuck another look at
hotel.
After dinner, I went to see the President, up to the
White House as they call it, what stands at the other
eend of the Avenue. All along the way the hack-men
kep settin at me to ride in one of ther carriages. It
looked like only a little ways, and I wanted to see the
city as I went along; but if I stopped for a minit to explain
to one of 'em, I was sure to have a dozen of 'em
round me at once, all pullin and haulin at me, and cusin
one another for every thing you could think of. Washington's
so bominably scattered all over creation, that
most every body rides, and these fellers think it's a outrage
on ther rights to see a gentleman walkin in the
street. I cum mighty nigh gettin into three or four fights
with 'em fore I got half way to the President's house.
It was a monstrous long walk, and I was terrible tired
fore I got thar. What makes it so deceivin is, the Capitol
at one eend, and the White House at the other eend of
the wide street, is so large that one loses all idee of
distances and proportions.
When I got to the house, I nocked at the door, and
a gentleman opened it and told me to cum in.
“Good evenin, Mr. President,” ses I, “I hope yourself
and famly is all well,” offerin him my hand at the
same time.
“Good evenin, sir,” ses the gentleman, givin me a
real Georgia shake by the hand. “It's not Mr. Polk
your spakin too, ses he, but no offence, sir, walk in.”
“Why,” ses I, “don't the President live here,”
beginin to think I never would find him.
“To be sure, sir; this is the Prisident's house, but it's
Cabinet day, and his excellency can't be seen by strangers.”
“Well, I'm very sorry for that,” ses I.
“And so am I,” ses the gentleman. “But,” ses he,
“since you can't see his excellency, you can have the
honor of taking a pinch of snuff wid his lagal ripresintative,”
and with that, he poked his snuff-box at me
put my neck out of jint a sneezin.
As soon as I got over it a little, ses he: “walk this
way, sir, and I'll show you through the public rooms if
you would like to see them.”
After walkin about awhile we cum into the great
East room, which is a real stylish place you may depend,
with gold chairs, and marble tables, and the
richest kind of carpets, with lookin-glasses clear down
to the floor. I knew that was the room whar pore old
General Harrison lay before he was buried, so I ax'd
the man if he knowd General Harrison.
“To be sure I did,” ses he; “I cum here in General
Jackson's administrashun, and I've bin here iver since.
Ah, sir!” ses he, “General Harrison was a great and
good man. He was a true dimocrat, he was. We
waked him here two days in this room, sir, and I shall
niver, til the day of my deth, forgit that melancholy
sight. The gineral was none of yer blarneyin politicians,
but a true man, sir. When he cum to the
White House I wint to him, and ses I—`Gineral, I'm
a dimocrat, and if I'd had a vote I'd voted agin you,
and now I'm reddy to give up my place.' `Don't think
of it, Martin,' ses he; `I'm tould yer atten ive and
faithful in the discharge of yer duties. I'll need such
a man about me, and it's not myself that'll discharge
any man for his political opinions.' I kep my place,
sir, but the pore ould gintleman, rest his sowl, wasn't
spared to keep his. He was kind to ivrybody 'bout
him, from the highest to the lowest; I used to walk out
wid him whin he was sick; and if you'd seen us togi her
you couldn't a tould which was the best dimocrat, the
Prisident of the United States, or his Irish futman.”
“Give me yer hand, Martin,” ses I; “I'm a Georgia
whig, and I'm glad to hear you speak well of the man
I loved so much.”
“Dimocrat or whig,” ses he, “the truth's all the
same. But are ye all the way from Georgia?”
“I am,” ses I; “my name is Jones, Joseph Jones,
of Pineville.”
“Majer Joseph Jones?” ses he.
“That's my name when I'm at home,” ses I.
“Then giv me yer hand agin, Majer,” ses he, “and
tell me, how did you lave Mary and the baby—how is
little Henry Clay Jones, and the good wife? Faith,
I've red yer book, Majer,” ses he, “and I'm rite glad
to make yer acquaintance. Will you take another pinch
of snuff?” ses he.
“No, I thank you, sir,” ses I; “I ain't much used
to snuffin.”
“Well, no matter for that Majer,” ses he; “if it
don't agree wid you—I know you used to chew tobacco.
But you see I'm a bit of a litterary man myself, and I'm
writin a jurnal of my life in the White-house, for these
last fifteen years. Now what do you think of the idee,
Majer?”
Then he went into a description of his book, and
you may depend it's gwine to be one of the most
interestin books ever published in this country. You
know Martin's bin jest as familiar as a mushstick with
the Kitchen Cabinets under Gen. Jackson, Mr. Van
Buren, Capt. Tyler, and Mr. Polk—he knows evry
politician in the country, and all ther tricks and intrigues;
and it'll be monstrous strange if a man of as
much natural smartness as Martin, with sich opportunities,
couldn't pick up enuff materials in fifteen years
to make a interestin book. I told him I thought he had
a fortune by the tail, if he'd only hang on to it, and not
let anybody git it away from him. He gin me a Irish
wink, as much as to say, he wasn't quite so green, and
after a little more chat 'bout literature, politics, and
matters and things in general, I bid him good by and
went back to my hotel. And here I must drap my pen
for the present. So no more from
| Major Jones's sketches of travel | |